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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385525">Scars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyGeekWriter/pseuds/DisneyGeekWriter'>DisneyGeekWriter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Beauty and the Beast (1991)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Inspired by Art, post transformation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:41:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29385525</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyGeekWriter/pseuds/DisneyGeekWriter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Transformation, the Beast must adjust to being human again. Inspired by fan art. Link in the notes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adam/Belle (Disney), Beast/Belle (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>https://drawnby27emilys.tumblr.com/post/632607839493439488/so-i-wanted-to-make-this-super-quick-concept-as</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Scars </strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he could have screamed he would have. The pain was blinding. His back, his side where the hunter had attacked was in an indescribable agony. But this pain, this pain was worse. He didn’t know what was happening to him. As his senses came back to him, he could tell something was different. He was lighter. Lighter. He felt the cold. Cold. Shivering, he started to stand. Standing. He was upright again. Where was he? Who was he? His feet were feet again. Was this heaven?  He put his hand up to his face. His hand. Flexing his fingers, his fingers, he knew he must be dead. Only in death would he find himself human again. The hunter had won. He mourned his friends, his ever faithful servants. Cogsworth. Lumiere. Mrs. Potts. Forever cursed to remain because he failed. Someone was crying behind him. Crying? There was no crying in heaven. He turned sharply, wincing in pain as he did. </p>
<p>Belle. She was there. Had the hunter hurt her as well? It was a trick. One last cruelty from the enchantress. To torment him with an image of the last time he saw Belle. </p>
<p>“Don’t cry for me Belle,” he said, his breath making smoke in the air. His voice. It wasn’t the harsh growls and animalistic sounds from before. His voice was his voice again. Taking his surroundings, he saw the stonework of his castle. He was on the balcony of his chambers. He had failed. He had failed them all. He was doomed to haunt the castle as a spectre. He took a step forward. The stone of the balcony was cold to his bare foot. A spectre couldn’t feel the cold. His steps were heavy and solid.  A sharpness and pain entered his foot. Broken glass. His audible gasp was enough to finally prove to him that he was well and indeed alive. “Belle? Belle, it’s me. I’m here.”</p>
<p>Only moments before, the beast had been dead beneath her shuddering and sobbing body. Taken up by light and enchantment. Now this man was standing in front of her. Who was this man? How did he know her name? He took her hands in his and she began to look closer. Blood. He was bleeding from his side. His side where Gaston had stabbed the beast.The tear in the sleeve of his shirt exposed his arm. Three lines down his arm. Those wounds. She had tended wounds there on the beast. Looking into the man’s eyes, blue and beautiful. </p>
<p>“Belle, it’s me,” he said again. It meant something. The emphasis he put on the words. He was trying to tell her something. “I’m here.”</p>
<p>Her eyes moved from the man’s face to the scars on his arm and back to his eyes. His eyes. The portrait. The torn portrait in the West Wing. The eyes on the man were the same blue. The same blue that was staring into her own golden brown. The realization hit her a beat later. </p>
<p>“It is you,” she said softly. “You came back. You came back to me.” </p>
<p>He held her in his arms for a moment, content to just be. Every nerve and cell ached from the change. He saw her with new eyes. She was still as beautiful as she was when he first saw her as the beast. But as a man, she had become life itself. He would never tire of looking at her, being near her. Belle was his everything and he would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew her value to him. </p>
<p>His knees gave out from under him, weakened from the wounds the hunter had inflicted. Belle gasped and moved forward to catch him. It took all Belle’s strength to hold him up. He was injured. Bleeding. Gaston’s injuries had lasted through the change. She guided him to the West Wing. The still water of the tub from his earlier bath remained. It wouldn’t be warm, but enough to wash the blood away. </p>
<p>“Can you -- do you need?” she stammered trying to find the right words to ask him. It was too soon, too intimate a moment for her to undress him. </p>
<p>“Only with my shirt,” he answered. The cut was high enough that he wouldn’t need to fully remove his breeches. </p>
<p>He was so beautiful. Tall and muscular. His flesh was littered with scars. Years of the enchantment had left their mark upon his skin. The freshest cut was three lines on his forearm where the wolf had attacked him back in the woods. The injury had been meant for Belle, but the Beast had bravely jumped in and defended her at the last second.  Belle’s throat choked up at the old memory, but she had to stay strong. She knelt by the tub, using a rag to wash away the grime from his back. Tears pricked his eyes as she cleaned the gash in his side, causing her expression to crumple. This was all her fault. </p>
<p>“Stop that,” he said, his voice breaking the silence in the room. </p>
<p>“Am I hurting you?” she asked, dropping the rag. </p>
<p>“No my love,” he said, turning to face her. “Stop blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” </p>
<p>“I led him here. I caused this to happen.” </p>
<p>“You saved me.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you, Belle.” </p>
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